


Crescendo

by Aryagraceling



Series: Rare Pair Central [10]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Suicide, Child Abandonment, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Hanahaki Disease, Intersex Omegas, Kid Hatake Kakashi, M/M, Miscarriage, On Hiatus, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Prompt: Deep In Your Petals, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-02-29 21:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18786253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: Orochimaru promised to take care of his family.It's hard when your son is traumatized by brutality and your husband is a pariah for standing up for what he believes.It's harder when your husband can no longer love you, and loss clogs your lungs with flowers that should have been beautiful.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for myself.

“Wake up.” Orochimaru sits on the edge of the bed and runs black-tipped fingers up Sakumo’s body, scratching lightly near his neck before letting his hand fall to the bed. “It’s nearly noon, Sakumo, and our  _ son--”  _ Sakumo stirs at the enunciation-- “would like you present when he’s promoted.”

It hurts, seeing Sakumo like this. He’s rarely up at sunrise these days, choosing instead to spend his days tucked away from the rest of the world. Orochimaru understands the feeling. When people look at you with fear in their eyes and anger in their hearts, it’s hard to want to be around them. When you’re the person who stole the White Fang away to bear his child, it’s hard to live with the sideways glances and whispers of  _ unworthy.  _ When you’re experimenting to help and things sometimes go awry, it’s hard to listen to the voice telling you it’ll be all right.

He hasn’t heard that voice since Sakumo’s mission report was released.

Sakumo hasn’t been able to tell him it’s all right for a long while now. When he’s out of the village, it almost feels better for their family. No hackles raised in anger at shouted insults from the street, no licking an alpha’s wounds when he drops to the bed in exhaustion. Kakashi hates those nights, Orochimaru knows. Their boy is strong, but he is not invulnerable. He misses his father and Orochimaru desperately wants to be that person for him, but when Kakashi cries for papa, it’s not Orochimaru he’s crying for.

Today, he hopes Sakumo can rouse himself for the few hours it will take to make Kakashi happy. “Shower before you go,” Orochimaru says with a sigh. His fingers massage the back of Sakumo’s neck in the hopes he’ll feel something like love.

He’d even take lust at this point.

“Thought that wasn’t supposed to be for another week,” Sakumo says roughly. “I had time.”

Orochimaru lets him take his hand. “Time’s run out,” he says. “There’s no reason for you to sit in bed pathetically while your son is being honored. Get. Up.”

With a groan, Sakumo does. His breathing is heavy, almost wet, and Orochimaru’s eyes dart to the pillow. Thankfully, there’s not a hint of blossoms. “I’m fine,” Sakumo says upon noticing. “As long as you love me, I’m fine.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Sakumo leans into him, pressing his lips to the bare skin of Orochimaru’s shoulder before inhaling deeply. “You smell good.”

“If you’d been paying attention, you’d know my heat is coming,” Orochimaru says. “Now’s the time if you want another.”

“Someone to survive us, hmm?”

“I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” 

Sakumo hesitates just enough to be worrying before laughing and agreeing. “I’m sure Kakashi will enjoy staying with Gai for a few nights,” he says. “We’ll put another in here.” He drops a hand to Orochimaru’s stomach and smiles softly against his neck before getting up to disappear into the bathroom. 

Orochimaru cradles the place Sakumo caressed, brushing lightly over the scar that gave them Kakashi.  _ Another  _ is a thought he doesn’t know he should be entertaining right now.  _ Sibling,  _ for Kakashi, could mean derailing progress and at such a young age, it may not be worth it. If Sakumo is half the father Orochimaru knows he is, though, even now, he will be grateful for another opportunity. Another chance.

The tap turns on as Kakashi pads to the door. “Here, child,” Orochimaru says, motioning him over. 

“I’m not a child,” Kakashi says through the thick material of a scarf. He’d started wearing it around the time Sakumo returned from the mission, everyone’s stares weighing heavy on his heart and pushing him into a box Orochimaru hoped he’d break out of. “I’m becoming a chunin today. They don’t let children become chunin.”

“No,” Orochimaru says. He lets Kakashi crawl onto his knees and bury his face, tiny hands locking around his neck. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m not scared,” Kakashi snips.

“Of course you’re not.” Orochimaru ruffles his hair, earning an indignant huff, and begins to rock slowly back and forth. “Are you ever afraid these days?”

Kakashi shakes his head.

“Brave boy,” Orochimaru says. “Your father and I are proud of you, Kakashi. Never forget that.”

“Is he coming?” Kakashi asks, nearly knocking Orochimaru back as his head snaps up. The bathroom door opens and Sakumo stands there with a towel around his waist and a smile pasted on his face. “Are you, papa?”

“Yes, Kakashi,” Sakumo says softly.

Orochimaru’s lap is left bare as Kakashi jumps off and runs over, stopping just before he skids into his father. A seriousness suddenly overtakes him, and he clasps his hands behind his back. “Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate your time.”

Sakumo meets Orochimaru’s eyes over the top of Kakashi’s head. There’s sadness in them, a deeper sadness than the one Orochimaru sees when he wakes in the morning. “You don’t need to appreciate my time,” he says, kneeling in front of the boy before wrapping him in a hug. “You’ve always had it.”

_ Don’t lie,  _ Orochimaru wants to say, but keeps quiet. Instead, he gets up and steers Kakashi out into the kitchen. “Would you like me to make you lunch, or can you do it on your own today?”

“I have to be able to do it on my own,” Kakashi says solemnly.

“You do,” Orochimaru agrees. He releases Kakashi to go back to the bedroom, clicking the door gently behind him. “Your son deserves the truth,” he says. 

Sakumo freezes halfway through pulling his shirt on. “He has the truth.”

“I can’t even get your time, and I’m your husband.” Orochimaru catches Sakumo’s hand halfway to the dresser and holds it to his heart. “I’m your  _ omega,  _ Sakumo. Do not lie to our child.”

“Yes, you are,” Sakumo says, grey eyes flashing with steel as, for a brief second, Orochimaru feels his alpha stir.

“So caring,” he says. He lets the hand drop and turns, stopped by a growl. “Save it for someone who actually deserves your ire. Get dressed and put on a smile with it.” He pulls on clothes for the ceremony and leaves his alpha standing there bristling. Maybe he’ll pay for it tonight, when Sakumo claims him. Maybe he’ll pay for it next week, or next month, but for now all he hopes is that Sakumo can hold it together to watch their son become a man years too early. 

Somehow, he manages.

Hatake Kakashi becomes a genin under sunny skies with a gentle breeze blowing, at odds with the future Orochimaru knows awaits him. The boy sighs and rolls his eyes when Gai yells about rivalry but, true to form, asks if he can spend the night in celebration. “Go on,” Sakumo says. “Home will be there when you’re ready.”

Orochimaru is silent, the restless energy of heat beginning to crawl under his skin as he watches. “Let’s go,” he says when Kakashi disappears. “You don’t want to stay here longer than you have to.”

“Fine.”

When the door shuts and the lock clicks shut, Orochimaru lets the guise of proper omega drop. “I’ll be in the lab,” he says, brushing past Sakumo. “Working on the cure.”

“Love--”

“I am exhausted,” Orochimaru snaps. “I’ll be back up when I can.” He leaves Sakumo standing in the kitchen and almost immediately the guilt creeps in, but there are only so many times he can watch an alpha-- _ his,  _ no less--look like a beaten dog. 

The beakers sitting on his workbench still remain unfilled. “Ridiculous,” he mutters, snapping on gloves and flipping open his notebooks.  _ Everything  _ is ridiculous. Sakumo’s mission, Sakumo’s current condition, the virus wreaking havoc on everyone smart enough to keep feelings concealed-- “Nonsense.”

Genius, frankly, but he wasn’t going to admit that someone had outdone him and engineered what seemed to be an incurable sickness. It’s cruel, too, seeding in lung tissue to choke the life from you. “Sort of like love itself, isn’t it?” he asks the empty room. “Takes hold and just--” 

Pennyroyal leaves crumble into a bowl, and he hopes they might be the key. Surgery is invasive, hard, and the chances of survival are mediocre at best. Konoha’s surgeons refuse to see the body the way he does, refuse to take his advice into consideration. “Especially when I can’t cure my own goddamned alpha of  _ depression,  _ for fuck’s sake.”

It isn’t the same and they know it, but any excuse to discredit his findings can and will be used against him. “Exactly like love.”

That wasn’t right either.

If Orochimaru is honest, he’s never felt safer than in Sakumo’s arms. Home had been somewhat of a foreign concept until he was wrapped in a blanket and sated by the soothing hum of an alpha lulling him to sleep. Even recently, when he’s been the one having to do the soothing, the Hatake compound feels like home.

By the time he realizes he’s been staring at nothing for god-knows-how long, Sakumo’s grown restless enough to open the door to downstairs. “Orochimaru?” he asks quietly, startling a glass right out of Orochimaru’s hand and onto the floor.

“I told you to  _ warn  _ me, not sneak up on me,” he hisses.

Sakumo sighs before sitting on the steps. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re intruding.” They stand there, on guard, until Orochimaru’s foot brushes against a piece of glass. “Let me clean.”

“Let me help,” Sakumo counters.

“You can help by staying put,” Orochimaru says, breaking his gaze to pick up his broom from the corner. “There’s dangerous equipment and plants down here and I don’t want you getting hur-hurt, Sakumo!” he exclaims as he’s pulled into the alpha’s lap. His stomach lurches as the heat slams into him, curling him over Sakumo’s arms around his waist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Redeeming myself, hopefully?” When Orochimaru turns his head back, Sakumo’s eyes are hopeful, pleading. “I know it’s been hard.”

“And heat will fix it? Distracting me from my work?” He scoffs before he’s turned to be cradled in Sakumo’s embrace. “Let me go.”

To his surprise, Sakumo does. “Heat won’t fix it. It’s not your job to fix,” he says. “But could you maybe  _ be  _ with me for tonight? There’s no Kakashi to interrupt.”

Glass tinkles as Orochimaru sweeps, actively avoiding answering. He can already smell the slick gathering between his thighs and knows Sakumo can too. His nose has always been keen. “Don’t you think we should talk about what you asked for this morning?”

“I wasn’t asking,” Sakumo says, “and we’ve talked about it enough over the last few months. Are we going to start fighting about that now, too?”

Orochimaru deflates at the frustration in his tone. “You know I don’t want to fight,” he says. “It stresses everyone out.” He dumps the glass in the trash and sets the broom and dustpan back in the corner before sitting over Sakumo’s thighs, throwing his arms over his shoulders. “But are you really sure it’s best right now?” he asks softly, lips brushing against the skin of Sakumo’s throat. “One hundred percent?”

“Yes,” Sakumo breathes. 

“To bed, then.” Orochimaru stands and takes Sakumo’s offered hand, fighting back a blush when his husband brings it to his lips. “I’d rather have those somewhere else, you know.”

“Better hurry then,” Sakumo murmurs. When they hit the top of the stairs, he wraps his arms around Orochimaru and draws him into a searing kiss. One hand slides down to cup the curve of Orochimaru’s ass, the other trekking up to bury in ink black hair as Orochimaru sinks into the touch.

He lets out a breathless groan when Sakumo hikes a leg around his hip. “Right here in the kitchen?” he pants, grabbing Sakumo’s shoulders for balance. “I mean, I’m not compla--”

The chance to finish is stolen by Sakumo’s lips on his once again. “No Kakashi,” he mumbles. “No neighbors, no dogs, no interruptions.” With each thing he ticks off, Sakumo’s mouth drops lower until he’s brushing the fabric off of Orochimaru’s shoulder to reveal the tattoo winding up from his back. “I might be shit at being a husband recently, but I still know how to please you.”

“Is that what this is about?” Orochimaru manages, catching Sakumo’s wrist with one hand before he gets any further. “You being depressed?”

Sakumo pauses, and Orochimaru’s spine goes cold. “Let me be good at something,” his husband finally says, letting him go. “Just for tonight, at least. Let me do something I  _ know  _ I’m good at, love.”

Orochimaru nods, avoiding his eyes.

“Thank you,” Sakumo whispers. He’s more careful now, less demanding as his hands spread over Orochimaru’s chest to push his clothing aside. Rough thumbs smooth over quickly-pebbling nipples, and Sakumo catches them between thumb and forefinger to tug as he nips just below Orochimaru’s scent glands. 

“Oh,” Orochimaru sighs, the sound airy and almost silent in the empty house. It’s so easy, with Sakumo, to give into the flames licking through his veins. With every passing second the fire is stoked, molten heat throbbing where he wants his alpha the most. “Sakumo, please--”

“All right, I won’t tease,” Sakumo says. He presses one final kiss to Orochimaru’s pulse before sinking to his knees and helping Orochimaru from the confines of his underwear. “Settle,” he says at the wiggle of Orochimaru’s hips. “I said I’d get to it.”

Orochimaru is already nearly dripping as Sakumo pulls a leg over his shoulder. When his finger finds Orochimaru’s core, Orochimaru’s head tips back with a moan. “Come on, Sakumo, use your mouth.”

“That won’t put a baby in you.” Sakumo’s breath washes over wet skin and sends a shiver through Orochimaru, and Sakumo chases it away the next second with a warm tongue that sets Orochimaru alight. “Won’t--” he teases Orochimaru’s entrance with a single finger-- “do--” then another-- “much.”

“Shut  _ up,”  _ Orochimaru groans, pressing his hips forward in search of more,  _ faster  _ as Sakumo smiles against him. Both hands tangle in the mane of silver and push Sakumo ever closer. “Come on, come on, fuck me.”

He should be embarrassed, truly. Begging like a common whore is unbecoming, but with Sakumo’s fingers and tongue taking him apart, there are no other words to be found. He supposes he could chalk it up to heat as well. After all, what better time to beg then when you’re nearly incoherent with need?

Sakumo crooks his fingers, curls his tongue over Orochimaru, sucks, and Orochimaru shatters. He comes with a broken cry, nails digging into Sakumo’s scalp as Sakumo works him through it. His legs tremble--his whole body, really--and when he’s slumped against the wall, sated, Sakumo maneuvers him down to sit over his lap. Breath comes in little pants that ruffle his husband’s hair, but Sakumo doesn’t seem to mind.

His cock presses, heated and full, against Orochimaru’s sensitive flesh as they sit. “Every time you sound prettier, I swear,” Sakumo says, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Someday you’ll kill me with those lips of yours.”

Orochimaru lets his head roll back to bare his neck. “Not if it means being saddled with two little hellions,” he whispers, slightly hoarse. “I need my husband by my side, Sakumo. Don’t ever leave me.”

There’s that damned pause again.

“Sakumo?” he asks, rubbing his cheek over the alpha’s neck. “Please?”

“Yeah,” Sakumo says. The small laugh afterwards is unnecessary, and Orochimaru marks him harder. “I’ll do my best, okay?” He pulls back and presses their foreheads together with a quiet smile. “Now let’s not waste any more precious heat time.”


	2. Chapter 2

Orochimaru hopes this peace lasts. It’s not likely, and he  _ knows _ better than to hope, but he does anyway. Sakumo’s arm is thrown around his stomach, fingers splayed on warm skin and legs tangled together, and he is calm. There’s none of the frantic need he displayed in the kitchen, and Orochimaru waits patiently for him to get a towel. 

He should just do it himself, but that means disturbing the quiet. Bruises worked into delicate skin and come drying on his thighs is a small price to pay for the smile he feels as Sakumo noses into his neck. “Our son is growing up,” the alpha murmurs. “I’m proud of him.”

“Yes,” Orochimaru says, carding his fingers through Sakumo’s hair. “Would you expect any different from the son of two of the most powerful shinobi in the village?”

“No.” Sakumo laughs softly and tightens his arm. “Now we just need to convince your cousin to teach him.”

“Tsunade does not like children,” Orochimaru says. “But I hear he’s been placed with Minato.”

Sakumo hums approvingly and presses up on one elbow for a lazy, drawn out kiss. It’s the kind that makes Orochimaru think that there’s a future besides Sakumo’s sadness, one where there’s a chance at being loved again. When they break, Sakumo’s eyes speak volumes. There’s pride there, fear and what looks a lot like  _ loss,  _ but he lets his lids slip shut as he leans in for another.  “Powerful,” he whispers. “We should be, shouldn’t we?”

“We are.”  _ I am _ is what Orochimaru wants to say, but he bites his tongue and stares at the ceiling as Sakumo finally gets up to retrieve a cloth. Best to let sleeping dogs lie. Steal a few more moments of the love he’s so desperately longed for. Wind begins to stir outside and with it, the need in his belly once again. There’s time, he knows, and he should get up for food and water, but when Sakumo comes back to bed the only thing he wants is to be wrapped in his alpha’s arms.

“Hey, hey,” Sakumo soothes when Orochimaru grabs for him.

Orochimaru hugs tighter when Sakumo’s fingers begin to brush over his spine. He holds him close enough to feel the way Sakumo shakes a bit with nervousness, holds him close enough he hopes he can hold him together. “I love you,” he mumbles.

Sakumo’s answering words ring hollow in his chest.

They’re bound to have at least the day--Kakashi can never spend more than two nights in a row with Gai--but Orochimaru feels a pressing sense of urgency as seconds turn into minutes. He squirms in Sakumo’s hold before pressing his alpha down to the mattress and climbing on top of him. Sakumo never bothered to put clothes on, and Orochimaru is forever grateful as he begins to work him to hardness.

“You’re greedy,” Sakumo remarks, but his hand joins Orochimaru’s between them. His fingers catch in slick folds as Orochimaru’s grip tightens, head falling back to the pillows when Orochimaru moves back to rub against his thigh with a whine. “Fuck, I missed this part of you.”

“It never left,” Orochimaru says. A fever is building in him, throbbing hard and heavy low in his gut as Sakumo’s hands clench on his thighs. “You have me. You always have. You always will. Please, Sakumo, have me.”

The fever spreads to every limb when Sakumo pushes him off and--with a fire in him Orochimaru hasn’t seen for  _ months--  _ flips him face-first on the mattress and sheathes himself in one fluid motion. He loves it when Sakumo gets rough. He craves it,  _ begs  _ for it, and when Sakumo gives it to him, he can do nothing but cling to the sheets as he’s fucked. When Sakumo takes him with the intention of leaving him sore, Orochimaru feels he’s got a chance of being loved the way he should be.

“Yes,  _ yes,”  _ he hisses, toes curling as Sakumo wrenches his head back. “Harder!”

The angle changes as Sakumo bends forward to bite into his shoulder. The sound of slick and the release Sakumo left in him fill the room, the feeling of his cock dragging heavy on Orochimaru’s walls their sole focus. He’s whispering things,  _ filthy  _ things, but all that matters is how deep he’s buried, over and over until the fever breaks and Orochimaru splinters around him.

“Hah,” he rasps when Sakumo’s hand unwinds from his hair. “Keep going. Fill me. Knot me.”

“Flip over,” Sakumo orders. Orochimaru does, and Sakumo presses his knees to his chest before pressing into him again. Rough fingers find his cock, nerves singing as Sakumo rubs over him in the same rhythm his hips set. “You love me?” he asks. “Scream it for me.”

It’s almost too much. Orochimaru’s nails dig into Sakumo’s biceps as the alpha’s cock begins to swell, the beginning of his knot pushing past slick-stained lips with each thrust. Their panting, harsh over the wet sounds, mingles until Orochimaru can no longer breathe, can no longer  _ think  _ as Sakumo asks him again to tell him.

“I lo- _ ahh,”  _ he keens, blood beading on Sakumo’s arms as he digs in and comes again. His head thrashes from side to side until Sakumo grips his chin, forcing their gazes together.

_ “Tell me,”  _ he says, and when Orochimaru does, his reply no longer feels as hollow. Sakumo lets his chin go in favor of sliding the arm under his shoulder and tucking Orochimaru against him as he locks them together. “My love,” he whispers, ferocity replaced with the quiet tones of worship. “My family.”

Orochimaru simply clings to him, clings to the moment as he’s filled. The anxiety will be back in a matter of minutes, the frustration back the first time Sakumo needs help working through one thing or another. Now, though, there’s the lingering high of orgasm and their scent stamped on the bed to fall into, be distracted by.

There’s  _ them,  _ and that’s all he’s been asking for.

**

It comes to an end too soon. Kakashi comes home that night, and the next two days are spent hoping Minato keeps him late at training. The sex is incredible, though Orochimaru isn’t shocked. It nearly always is, when both are drowning in pheromones and free time. Languorous touches and kisses stolen in seconds they’re alone occupy the remainder of Orochimaru’s heat, and he continues to feel as if maybe there’s hope yet. 

Sakumo gets the summons the day after heat breaks. 

“Two months is a long time,” Orochimaru says around the lump in his throat. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

“You and Tsunade can suffer together,” Sakumo jokes, whispering against Orochimaru’s temple. “And I’ll have to suffer through Jiraiya’s ‘research.’”

A sharp tug on Orochimaru’s shirt breaks his gaze from Sakumo’s, and he looks down to see Kakashi’s hands grabbing at him. The boy searches Sakumo’s face when Orochimaru heaves him up to sit on his hip. “Minato-sensei says we have a mission too,” he finally says. “Looking for cats.”

“What did those poor cats ever do to you?” Sakumo asks.

“Made me go on stupid missions.” Kakashi buries his face in Orochimaru’s shoulder, grumbling in the small voice that means exhaustion. “I don’t like cats. Neither do the dogs.”

Sakumo reaches to rub a soothing circle on his back. “You don’t need to use the dogs to look for cats,” he says, moving flush against Orochimaru’s side to tip Kakashi’s chin up. “In fact, it might be better training to  _ not  _ use the dogs, and rely on your own abilities.”

“The dogs are there, so why shouldn’t I use them?” Kakashi says. “We’re supposed to use all of our available tools. There’s no reason I shouldn’t.” He crosses his arms to the best of his ability before getting frustrated at the slipping scarf. There’s a brief moment where he fights with it, but eventually it ends up on the floor and he sets his jaw. “Fucking stupid.”

“Kakashi,” Sakumo chides. “There’s no need for that word.”

“It’s fucking stupid!” Kakashi yells. He wriggles until Orochimaru sets him down, then darts off to his room. Orochimaru can feel the sulking radiating down the hall and puts a hand on Sakumo’s arm when Sakumo growls, taking a step forward.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says heavily as he picks up the scarf. “Sit and calm down. I don’t have the energy to take care of  _ everyone  _ tonight.” 

Sakumo’s sigh speaks volumes Orochimaru would rather leave unopened as he walks toward Kakashi’s door. The boy hasn’t even bothered to shut it, apparently forgoing safety in his quest to bury himself under his blanket and pillow. “Go away,” he mutters.

“I don’t think I will.” There’s a long silence as Orochimaru waits. He hears Sakumo get up and retreat to their room, sorrow evident in the trudging steps and soft click of the door. There’s a large part of him that considers just laying on Kakashi’s floor tonight and trying to save the lingering feeling of togetherness that heat brought, but still, he waits. 

Eventually, Kakashi sniffs and lets the blanket down a little. “I don’t want to go,” he says.

Orochimaru shuts the door and goes to sit when beckoned. The bed creaks a bit with his added weight, but Kakashi shuffles so he has more room before sitting up and leaning against his shoulder with blanket in hand. “I go on missions I don’t want to go on,” he says. “We all do. Have I told you about the time I traveled to Kusa just for a rare plant?”

“No.”

“I came back sick as could be,” Orochimaru says. “I was looking for the plant, searching all day. I was so tired, and do you know what I did?”

Kakashi peers at him with wide eyes.

“I let my guard down and someone noticed,” Orochimaru continues. “See here?” He shows Kakashi a small scar on his forearm. “One of their shinobi was hiding and got me. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if it wasn’t--” he drags out the silence, draws Kakashi in until the boy is nearly falling on top of him--  _ “poisoned.” _

“I don’t believe you,” Kakashi says, looking pointedly away. “People say you’re better than that.”

“We all make mistakes, Kakashi.” Orochimaru offers the length of fabric he’s been turning over in his hands, and Kakashi’s hands dart out to take it immediately. “Some of us more than others.”

“Did you make a mistake when you got cut on your stomach?”

Orochimaru cocks his head, confused before Kakashi’s fingers brush just above his hips. “That,” he says gently. “No, boy. That was on purpose.”

Kakashi’s nose wrinkles. “Why did you get cut on purpose?”

“Because you were taking too long to come out of me,” Orochimaru says. Kakashi’s entire face goes slack at that, and Orochimaru laughs a bit at the ‘gross.’ “They told me you’ll grow up to be horribly, horribly lazy, if you couldn’t come out on time. That you’d get lost on the road of life.”

“No!” Kakashi says, scrambling to hide his stomach behind a pillow when Orochimaru threatens to tickle him. “I don’t want to get lost, dad.”

“Mm, I don’t think you will.” Orochimaru lets him settle before running a hand over his hair. Frantic heartbeats slow along with Kakashi’s breathing as Orochimaru continues, soft and slow until he has to look down to see Kakashi’s blanket moving to be sure there’s still life. “No,” he says with a kiss to Kakashi’s temple, “I don’t think you will.”

When he slinks into their room across the hall, Sakumo is sitting in bed with his knees to his chest. “I shouldn’t go,” he says. “Not with people I care about, not after what I did.”

“Tsunade’s more likely to go after me if anything happens,” Orochimaru says. “She knows me better, and should it come to blows she knows you have a decent chance at winning.” He snorts at Sakumo’s small smile. “You’ll go on this mission because you need to prove to the village you’re not weak. They need to see the White Fang triumph.”

Sakumo rests a hand on Orochimaru’s knee when he sits. “I’m  _ not  _ weak.”

_ Could’ve fooled me. _

“You of all people should know it’s not about what you are, it’s about how you appear,” Orochimaru says. He’s seen the stares. He’s heard the whispered disgust when he walks through the streets with ingredients suited for death. He’s listened to rumors swirl around him, about what sort of person he is--if he’s even a person at all. “Put the mission firmly in the past and come home safe. There might be a child in it for you.”

Dealing in mights and maybes is a stupid thing to do. On one of Sakumo’s good days, the promise of something not yet come to pass can be ignored. On his bad days, a promise unfulfilled can send him down a path darker than any Orochimaru’s been on. Promising a child…

Orochimaru’s breath leaves him in a rush as Sakumo’s hand settles on his stomach. “Let’s hope,” the alpha whispers. “I want our family to last.”

“Well,” Orochimaru says, “don’t do anything you’ll regret and we just might.”

**

Sakumo leaves with Jiraiya the next day. Kakashi departs to find the cats, and Tsunade wanders back to the Hatake complex with Orochimaru. “What’s your progress been on the cure?” she asks, rifling through the cupboards in search of the alcohol that’s been stashed somewhere different.

“Sakumo’s not allowed around it,” Orochimaru says, and she sits across from him with a huff. “I thought we were here for business anyway, not pleasure.”

“Please.” Tsunade waves a hand in front of her face before leaning on the table with both elbows. “The surgeons are getting better with the day, but there’s still quite the mortality rate. And if the patients don’t die, they’re often left mute or scarred.” Her nails tap on the wood as she runs her hand back and forth, back and forth. “They need  _ something.” _

“I’m doing my best,” Orochimaru says. “I’ve thought of a few tweaks to make to the current formula, things to root out the infection and help ensure it never comes back.”

“Mmm.”

“Be helpful if I could get into my father’s old lab.”

“Uncle Tobirama always did like his secrets, didn’t he?” Tsunade says. She knits her hands in front of her face and smiles. “We could always do like when we were kids and try sneaking in again.”

“And end up with my hands blown off?” Orochimaru asks. “Pass.”

Tsunade stands and is on him before he can get his arms up to protect himself. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” she purrs, wrapping around his shoulders from behind. “What have you done with my Sannin cousin, intruder? Has parenting made you soft, Orochimaru?”

“Get off of me,” he says, shaking out of her hold.

She only laughs. “You know I’m only teasing. How is the boy, anyway?” 

“You might get to know him better if you were ever around,” Orochimaru says. He stands to prepare a pot of tea before they descend to the lab, and Tsunade brushes off his concern. “I know you don’t like little ones, but Kakashi is...different. He’s quite advanced for his age.”

“So I hear. Taking after the legends.” 

Orochimaru groans when he looks over to see her flexing. “I can only hope he doesn’t grow to compete with your insanity.”

“I don’t remember your father raising you to be an ass,” she grouches.

“It’s Madara’s blood,” he counters. “Fiery temper.”

“That’s not an excuse.” Even amidst her protestations, she accepts the cup he holds out to her with a smile. “Tell me about this cure.”

“Well--” Orochimaru takes a burning sip-- “I was so focused on the pieces, I couldn’t see the whole. I had ingredients to kill the infection, for the afterwards, every part of it… and I couldn’t completely eradicate it.”

“And then a bolt of inspiration came down?”

“Not quite,” Orochimaru says. “I was in the garden--”

“Quaint,” Tsunade quips, and quiets at Orochimaru’s glare.

“Pennyroyal will kill anything living inside a body,” he continues before she can get a word in. “It’s perfect.”

He’s met with a blank stare before Tsunade’s eyes crease in concern. “Pennyroyal kills  _ people,”  _ she exclaims. “Innumerable problems, and that’s  _ if  _ they survive.”

“Chances are about the same, if you’re telling the truth about the surgery.”

She throws exasperated hands in the air. “Mute and scarred isn’t the same as kidney and liver failure,” she says.  _ “Brain damage,  _ Orochimaru, what in the  _ hell  _ do you think you’re suggesting?”

“Funny,” he says dryly. “My experimenting hasn’t ever garnered this sort of reaction.”

“Because your subjects have always volunteered or were already dead,” she hisses. “I’m not giving people at their wits’ end the option of that...that…”

“Not giving them an option,” he says coolly.

“Not  _ that  _ option!”

He can feel the anger radiating off of her. It’s the same anger he sometimes feels in the streets, and he  _ loathes  _ it. “Then we have no more business to discuss,” he says. “Do you need me to escort you to the door, Tsunade?”

“No, I--” she grunts and lets her hands fall to her lap before looking up at him through blonde lashes. “You’re a good man, Orochimaru. Please don’t go down that road. Don’t produce something that’s worse than what we have in the name of false hope.”

“The door,” Orochimaru says, “or must I show you the way?”

Tsunade about cracks the table in half when she gets up suddenly. “I’ve got it,” she says. Before she slams the door behind her, she looks back. “Your father didn’t raise an ass, true. But he didn’t raise a fool, either. Remember that before you do something you regret.”


	3. Chapter 3

What he regrets, it turns out, is letting Sakumo convince him to allow Kakashi to train at such an early age. It’s not that he misses him during the day, or on the nights when Minato takes his team from the village--it’s the fact that whenever Kakashi comes back, he’s a little bit harder. A little more grown up. While it wouldn’t be so bad in later years, Kakashi is but a young boy and whenever he admonishes Orochimaru for trying to hold him, Orochimaru knows their decision was wrong.

Kakashi’s moods come and go. The first two weeks he’s with his team, he’s the most excited Orochimaru has seen him in months. He comes bounding up the steps and into Orochimaru’s arms with tales of how he vanquished mighty foes on the training fields, punctuated with near-misses from slightly pudgy fists as he speaks. “Papa will be back soon and we can show him, right?” he asks, and Orochimaru doesn’t have the heart to tell him it’ll be much longer than  _ soon.  _

Minato comes home with him after the first mission out of Konoha. Kakashi’s almost asleep in his arms, eyes heavy-lidded as he curls his hand by his mouth. “We had a good time, didn’t we?” he says, bouncing Kakashi slightly. “Delivered that nice lady safe and sound.”

“Good,” Orochimaru says, relieved. “Ready for bed already, boy?”

Kakashi nods as he allows himself to be passed over. “‘M hungry, though,” he grumbles.

“All right.” Orochimaru groans, swinging him a little more than need be to earn the tiny giggle from behind the mask as he turns to the door. “Say goodbye to sensei?”

“I was actually hoping to talk to you,” Minato says. When Orochimaru looks back, he’s got one hand buried in his hair and is staring at the ground. “If you’ve got some time.”

“Of course,” Orochimaru says. The door swings open and he sets Kakashi down, both men watching him race into the kitchen for the fridge. “Don’t you want some hot food, Kakashi? It’ll just be a few minutes.” 

Minato chuckles at the feral growl from beyond the door. “He’s doing well,” he says softly. “I’m proud of him, but I do have some questions for you. Does he ever sleep? I swear he’s been up since we left.”

“Just as much as any child I know.”

“Hmm.” 

“Was there problems?”

Minato sighs, smiling at Kakashi when the child looks over. “His routine...I don’t see one that entrenched in shinobi five times his age, Orochimaru. He’s obsessed with being right.”

“Is that such a horrible quality?”

“No, no…’right’ isn’t the right word,” Minato says. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall opposite of Orochimaru as he draws his lip between his teeth. “Obsessed with...perfection. Control. Are things...all right here?”

“Fine,” Orochimaru says, smile clipped. “Sakumo and I expect a lot, but he knows he’s allowed to fail. I dare say he knows it’s expected on occasion.”

“I’m glad.” Minato’s face splits like the sun when Kakashi actually wanders to his side, and Orochimaru’s heart clenches at the way Kakashi doesn’t seem too shy to unmask himself in front of someone else.  _ Finally.  _ “Tuesday at seven sharp, remember?” He ruffles Kakashi’s hair affectionately. “Gives you some time to get all the sleep you missed.”

“It’s important to stay awake during missions,” Kakashi says. “I did my best.”

Minato squats so they’re face to face. “It’s also important to keep rested,” he says. “You know, stay alert. Obito and I were keeping watch. I promise you could’ve slept for more than an hour, okay?”

“But you said--”

“He said sleep, Kakashi,” Orochimaru says softly. “Finish eating, all right? We’ll talk about it later.”

Kakashi digs his heels in. “We’re here  _ now.”  _

“You’re hungry and getting crabby,” Orochimaru says.

“Da-aaad,” Kakashi whines.

“How about I take you out for some ramen before the next mission as payment for this time?” Minato says. Kakashi’s eyes get that sparkle that means he’ll cave, and Orochimaru breathes a sigh of relief. “Go do as your dad says.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Orochimaru says. He gives Kakashi a gentle push back toward the kitchen, then tilts his head to the door. 

Minato follows him out, eyes wide and somewhat worried as he looks to him. “We’ll be going out of the village again,” he says. “It shouldn’t take more than a week, but could you do me a favor and make sure he doesn’t have any stimulants on him? I don’t want a child dying on my watch just because he thinks he needs to live up to unrealistic expectations.”

“I’ll do my best,” Orochimaru says. He waves as Minato walks down the path, hand dropping when he disappears. His shoulders bow under the weight of knowing Kakashi will be irate when he discovers his soldier pills missing, and he considers if there’s a way to make a watered down version that will afford his son some of the benefits without the sleeplessness.

Perhaps he should simply replace them with medicine to make him  _ sleep, _ instead.

Kakashi is nearly asleep at the table when Orochimaru comes back inside. He doesn’t protest when Orochimaru gathers him in his arms, doesn’t even grumble at the soothing hand his father rubs over his back. There’s a little growl when Orochimaru tells him he’s getting heavy, but it fades as soon as Kakashi’s head hits the pillow. His hand curls by his mouth again and Orochimaru bites back a sigh as Kakashi’s lips part for his thumb.

“That’s going to harm you,” he murmurs.

“Don’ care.”

“Kakashi--” Orochimaru drags a knuckle over the boy’s cheek before hooking a finger around Kakashi’s in an attempt to extricate the thumb. “Please don’t. You’re being a child.”

“I’m a shinobi,” Kakashi mutters.

“Not if you suck your thumb.”

“But I want to.” Kakashi sniffs and buries his head in the crook of Orochimaru’s hip, hands fisting in his clothing. “Did sensei say I did a good job?”

Orochimaru brushes the hair from Kakashi’s head with a low sigh. “He said you did well. Why didn’t you listen to him when he asked you to sleep?”

“They needed me,” Kakashi mumbles. He latches onto his thumb again, and Orochimaru doesn’t bother pulling it out this time. “Rin and Obito don’t know what being a shinobi means.”

“Oh?”

“Gotta protect, no ma--” Kakashi yawns-- “no matter what.”

“Well, that’s a foolish way of thinking of things.” Orochimaru pushes Kakashi back to tug at the hem of his shirt, urging him to at least get out of his uniform before sleeping. “It’s much easier to protect the village if you can think clearly.”

“‘M thinkin’ clearly,” Kakashi says around another yawn.

“You’re about to fall asleep,” Orochimaru says gently. His chest is heavy with the beginnings of grief for what Kakashi could have been if he wasn’t  _ their  _ son. Perhaps the tiny body below him would’ve been better suited to civilian life, even. Orochimaru can’t truthfully say he never considered ‘accidentally’ making this so. He knows, though, that as long as Sakumo lives, this isn’t an option.

Kakashi doesn’t let his robes go, even in sleep. Orochimaru’s attempts at leaving only serve to earn him a tighter grip and eventually, he settles for trying to relax Kakashi enough to pry his hands open. Kakashi stirs, but doesn’t wake, and Orochimaru’s face twists in a frown as he watches the boy from the door. He loves his son, true. He always will. But the reality of it is that his child-- _ children, perhaps-- _ is going to grow under everyone’s expectations that he should surpass he and Sakumo.

Orochimaru doesn’t know if that’s possible.

His bed creaks as he lays back with a groan. He can feel the beginnings of a cold coming on, the cotton in his head fighting with the weight in his lungs. Like clockwork, he always gets sick when Sakumo’s gone for more than two weeks at a time. His immune system has never been particularly strong, and years of using himself as a test subject have done nothing to strengthen it. Stress and anxiety crush him in their grip as well, uncertainty of Sakumo’s fate plaguing him to the point of illness. 

There’s an unusual wetness in his first cough that confuses him. He attempts to clear his throat, something slimy sticking to the back and making him gag. The seven steps to the bathroom have never seemed so impossible until finally, he’s leaning over the sink and spitting a crimson blob against the porcelain. 

The second one comes just after the first. It’s easier to distinguish, less clot-like and more...petal-shaped. His back collides with the towel rack and nearly sends him to the ground as pain flashes through him. “No, it’s not,” he mutters. “Can’t be.”

“Dad?” Kakashi’s eyes are wide over the blanket he has clutched to his face as he appears to look down. “What’s wrong?”

Orochimaru stifles a cough with a fist as he rights himself. “Nothing, nothing. I tripped.” He smiles stiffly. “You should still be sleeping.”

“The noise woke me up,” Kakashi says.

“Well--” Orochimaru squats in front of him and places both hands on Kakashi’s shoulders-- “no more noises tonight. I’ll be in the lab for a while, then I’m going to bed myself. Can you tuck yourself in?”

Kakashi nods.

“Good boy,” Orochimaru says. He pats Kakashi on the head before turning him back to his room. “I’ll make you your favorites in the morning if you can sleep through the night, okay? I’ve got important work to do down there.”

“I can try,” Kakashi says.

“No sitting up and reading.”

Kakashi pouts a bit before agreeing and wandering back through his door, shutting it a bit harder than necessary. Orochimaru waits for the telltale sound of blankets rustling before leaning heavily against the doorframe and staring in horror at the petals in the sink. His mind races almost as fast as his heart, already weaving the web of lies he’ll tell Sakumo to make sure there’s not another burden on his plate. He’s already an incredible liar, how should this be any different?

Stomach twisting, he turns on the water and watches as they swirl down the drain. There’s a faint taste of perfumed iron in the back of his mouth he thinks is the most vile thing he’s had the displeasure of experiencing, even after eating Kakashi’s attempts at cooking for himself. 

“I can’t,” he whispers. “The cure’s not ready, nowhere near--” He bites off the rest of his sentence as he rushes down the stairs, already calculating the next batch’s ingredients. Glass clinks together as he gathers his equipment, shaking hands pausing only to hold back a cough here and there. Urgency sweeps through him and as he works, there’s only one thought beating through his head.

_ I’m not dying because of Sakumo’s inadequacy.  _

**

Kakashi is up bright and early the next morning, demanding what he was promised. Orochimaru cooks for him with bleary eyes and aching lungs, then sends him out the door to find anyone but him to harass for the day. He’ll probably end up going to the training fields or fighting with Obito, but Orochimaru can’t find the energy in himself to care about the consequences. 

He needs to get back to work.

It’s so much easier when Kakashi leaves with his team the day after. While Orochimaru loves being with him, incessant asking to do things together gets in the way of experimenting and Orochimaru does not want to snap on his child. He  _ refuses _ to. The days slip quickly by, holed up in his lab. The desire to eat is mitigated by the soldier pills he took from Kakashi’s pack like Minato asked, and water is an afterthought in the face of a wastebasket quickly filling with petals.

He’s so invested he nearly misses the door slamming when Kakashi arrives back home. There’s no knocking on the basement door, no asking for one thing or another, just the sound of the couch scooting back a few inches as Kakashi presumably throws himself on it. 

A fit, then.

Orochimaru sighs as he drags himself up the stairs. He’s in no mood for a confrontation today. He’s not  _ ready,  _ not in the right space, but Kakashi certainly seems to be. He’s got the contents of his bag and weapons pouch spread across the table, glaring as he rifles through everything. “They were here right before I left,” he says. “They can’t just disappear.”

“What?”

“The ones that keep me awake.”

“You’re not supposed to use those anymore,” Orochimaru says. “Minato suggested it, and I agreed.”

There’s venom in Kakashi’s eyes when his head whips around. “I almost got hurt because Obito couldn’t keep his stupid eyes open. Someone tried sneaking into camp and he  _ missed  _ it. I would’ve caught him.”

_ Oh. _

Orochimaru’s heart clenches when Kakashi doesn’t pull his mask off. “You don’t trust your team,” he says.

“Not if they’re going to get me killed.”

“You’re capable enough of defending yourself,” Orochimaru says. He sits in the chair beside the couch and waits until the anger fades and Kakashi starts piecing himself back together. “Care to tell me what else is the problem here?”

“No.”

“Well, then…” Orochimaru taps his nails in frustration as Kakashi clams up. _Just like his father._ “How did the mission go otherwise?”  
“Fine.”

“Any other things you’d like to say?”

“I want to be better, not a babysitter,” Kakashi says sharply. “I can’t get better if all I do is watch.”

“Can’t you?” Orochimaru asks. Kakashi cocks his head in confusion. “Do you think you would’ve been anywhere near as advanced if your father and I hadn’t set you on the porch so you could watch us spar?” He coughs, and Kakashi’s eyes narrow. “I’m fine, boy.”

“It’d be better if you would’ve let me do it with you,” Kakashi snips, crossing his arms in defiance. “Rin and Obito don’t do it properly and sensei needs to teach them, so I have no one.”

“Rin and Obito are trying their best.”

“It’s not...  _ good enough,”  _ Kakashi says. 

Orochimaru swallows a petal as he regards his son. Minato’s right, the obsession is beginning. He sees it in the way Kakashi meticulously places each piece of weaponry back, each little odd and end in its place. Kakashi doesn’t look back when he’s followed to his room, instead placing his bag down before turning back to his father.

“I want to be better,” he repeats.

_ So do I,  _ Orochimaru wants to say. Instead, he leans against the door and smiles through the sudden flip of his stomach. “Would you like to spar with me?” he asks. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re young.”

Kakashi nods sagely. “Trained by one of the Sannin,” he says. “That’ll make me good.”

“It’ll make you sore,” Orochimaru warns. “You’ll probably get hurt.”

“That’s okay,” Kakashi says. He keeps his eyes pinned to the floor as he walks over, fingers twitching toward Orochimaru’s legs before he risks wrapping his arms around his waist. “I asked for it this time. I just don’t like being surprised.”

“Boo,” Orochimaru says, not quite reaching ‘tease.’ 

Kakashi steps back and scuffs his foot to hide a laugh. “You’re not scary.”

“I’ll get you eventually,” Orochimaru says. He reaches to ruffle Kakashi’s hair before putting the arm around his shoulder and steering him out of the house, into the backyard. His fists go up in a defensive position, Kakashi lifting his own seconds later. “All right, boy,” he says. “Show me what you know.”

**

Allowing Kakashi to spar with him isn’t his best idea. He loves it, they both do, but he worries that Kakashi’s advancing entirely too quickly. He’s nowhere  _ near  _ Orochimaru’s caliber, however, and when Orochimaru watches him train with his teammates one day, he worries that Kakashi will cut too quickly and accidentally do something he’ll regret. 

His days of killing are hopefully far in the future. 

Six weeks after Sakumo left, Minato comes to him again with worries. “He’s not fitting in like he should,” he says. “I know that duty isn’t about who’s best friends, but…”

“Teamwork is also important,” Orochimaru finishes. “I understand.”

“I--” Minato twists his hands, unable to meet Orochimaru’s eye-- “uh, hate to ask this of you, but…”

“Yes?” Orochimaru asks coolly.

“Maybe don’t put in extra training hours with him?”

_ That  _ isn’t something Orochimaru expects. He freezes as his exhausted brain tries catching up. It runs through several possible outcomes before deciding to fly away altogether, and he stares blankly at the shock of blond hair in front of him. “Don’t?”

“I really, really hate to ask,” Minato says again.

Breath catches in Orochimaru’s petal-stricken lungs as his stomach clenches. Minato’s face swims as a wave of nausea threatens to overtake him, and he nods quickly, assuring him he’ll stop before all but shoving the younger man out the door. Anemone petals and the fish he’d been in the middle of eating heave themselves onto the floor, leaving him to stare in horror. His eyes widen as puzzle pieces begin to align themselves in the forefront of his mind.

It’s been easy to dismiss the tiredness as staying up late and trying to breathe properly around others. The achiness, simply the byproduct of flowers threatening to collapse his chest. Irritability...he’s never been particularly consistent when it comes to mood, and being alone with a child beginning to show the true colors of illnesses that plague so many shinobi doesn’t lend itself to kindness at all times. 

The vomiting he knows all too well from carrying Kakashi so many years ago. 

The door cracks into his hip before he can tell whoever’s running up to stop. He covers his mouth with a hand as he peers out to see Kakashi standing, shocked, on the porch. “You were leaving,” he rasps.

“I forgot to say goodbye,” Kakashi mumbles. “What’s wrong, daddy?” His head cranes to the side, attempting to look at what Orochimaru’s carefully blocking. “It smells funny. Why?”

“I’m not feeling well.” Orochimaru catches a stray petal in his sleeve as he wipes his lips and slumps against the doorway. “I just need some time to rest, all right? Don’t worry about me. Go on your mission. Be good for your team.”

“But--”

“I love you,” Orochimaru says, mustering a smile. “Bring me back a story, hmm?”

Kakashi nods once. “I will. Feel better so we can fight,” he says, and Orochimaru lets him leave without telling him that’s not going to happen anymore. He zips down the path to where Minato and the others are waiting by the gate, giving one final wave before going off to gods know where. 

He does everything in his power to procrastinate going to the store and buying a test. They’ll tell him congratulations, that Konoha should be proud it’ll have another prodigy soon enough. They’ll tell him he should stay around the village and not worry himself over business, because it’ll stress him. They should know better, because making a pariah of his husband stresses him more than any sort of business he dabbles in.

When the front entrance is cleaned along with every other room and his lab, he looks at himself in the mirror with not only sadness, but anger as well. He knew better than to fall for someone. He’d even promised Tsunade years ago, as children, that he’d never be tethered to an alpha, never be tethered in one place. 

“Look at you now,” he tells the sunken eyes and papery skin. “Loving someone who can’t find a fuck to give about you.” His fingers grip the vanity for a second before he’s batting the little dog figure Sakumo gifted him into the wall, wordlessly crying to drown out the sound of falling shards. “You sold out, gave it all away, and for what?” He laughs mirthlessly. “A life you can’t escape and another pup on the way.”

Dead pupils stare back at him. 

“Maybe when Sakumo comes back it’ll be better,” he says, trying to convince himself. “He’ll get the news and be happy, instead of looking like a beaten puppy. He wants another.  _ I  _ want another. Kakashi...needs someone.”

_ Needs his father. _

“Maybe…” he breathes quietly. 

_ Maybe I can salvage this.  _

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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